


Cold Case

by Morgan Briarwood (morgan32)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:39:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan%20Briarwood
Summary: Every cop has one case that haunts them. The one you screwed up. The one you can’t let go. This is Ellison’s.





	1. Night Shift

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had this crazy idea to turn my Sentinel Bingo card into a multi-part story. I have an extremely rough outline but no idea how this is going to play out once I get into it. But I’m game to try. The story is set post-series, in no specific time, but Simon is close to retirement and our heroes are no longer young.

Jim poured the dregs from the coffee pot into his mug. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, dialling his sense of taste down as far as he could. Then he drained the mug. He looked up at the clock.

It was 3:47 am and Jim had been awake for nearly forty hours. The first sleepless night had been worth it. He closed the case, made the arrest. But then he got drafted into a night shift and he wasn’t convinced he would make it to shift-change.

He sank into the chair behind his desk and rubbed his tired eyes.

“Hey, Ellison!” a woman’s voice called.

Wearily, he looked up. She was hanging onto the bullpen door frame, leaning in to the room but not quite entering, like a child who knew she wasn’t allowed in. But this wasn’t a kid: she wore a CPD patrol uniform.

“Yeah, Officer…?” Jim blinked a few times and her face came into focus. He knew her face, but her name escaped him for the moment.

“Granger, sir. We just pulled someone in on a DUI. Routine, but she’s asking for you. A Jessica Blake.”

Jim frowned, struggling to remember. Then it came to him. He stood. “DUI? Is she high or drunk?” Jim knew the answer, or hoped he did, but he had to ask.

“Drug test isn’t back yet. But her alcohol was point two three.”

 _Damn it, Jessica._ Jim headed toward her. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Only a streetlight and her car.”

That was something, at least. “Jessica Blake is an old case of mine. One we never cracked. She’s been through a lot.”

Officer Granger looked uncomfortable. “Sir, are you asking me to…?”

“No. If she’s been driving drunk, you book her. No special treatment. But let me talk to her. I promised her when we shelved the case that she could always come to me.”

Granger nodded. “I’ll pull her out of lockup.”

A few minutes later Jim sat in an interview room across from the wreck of a woman he had failed five years earlier. Jessica Blake was nineteen years old, a student at Rainier University, when she went missing. Three months later she was found by a group of hikers in the woods, half-starved and hypothermic. That was when the case was upgraded from a missing person to abduction and Jim was handed the case.

Jessica claimed she had been abducted by two men and held prisoner. She was tortured and raped. Then she escaped and fled into the woods. She got lost and had been saved by those hikers. Medical evidence supported her story but didn’t prove it. There was no DNA. She had bruises and lacerations consistent with restraints but they could have been caused by her ordeal in the woods. She had needle tracks on her arms but never said her captors drugged her.

There were inconsistencies but Jim believed her story. He had interviewed her and no one could fake that kind of trauma. Jim worked hard on her case. With Sandburg’s help, he retraced her route through the woods – something no other detective could have done. But he never found where she was held. No one witnessed the abduction and, most damningly, no other missing persons cases could be linked to hers. If a pair of psychopaths kidnapped and held a girl for months and got away with it, they would have tried for a fresh victim. Jim even went to the FBI for similar cases out of state. Nothing.

When the trail went cold, other cops started to doubt her story. Her fairly public meltdown didn’t help. It was suggested that she was a junkie, that her so-called abductors were her pimps and the only part of her story that was true was the getting lost in the woods. Jim fought hard, but in the end he was ordered to drop it. No leads, no case.

He knew she struggled and it was partly his fault. This wasn’t her first DUI. But she had been doing well. She got sober. She was in AA.

Jessica’s lipstick was smeared and her eyes were red-rimmed, though whether that was from drink or tears, Jim wasn’t sure. She was dressed casually: navy blouse, battered, faux-leather jacket, jeans and sneakers. No jewellery. Not a party-look.

“What happened, Jessica?” Jim asked gently.

She shrugged. “I had a bad day.”

“I can’t make this one go away.”

Knowing that she had more reason than most to drink, Jim helped her at first. But after the fourth or fifth time she called him from the drunk tank he told her he wouldn’t help again unless she helped herself, too. It took a bit longer, but she got herself in the program. She got better. Why was she here like this, now?

“I don’t care.” She shrugged again, dismissively. “I just want you to tell me you’re doing something.”

“The case is still open,” Jim said.

“But you’re not investigating are you?”

Jim sighed. What could he do?

“Do you know how many girls have gone missing from Cascade in the last five years?”

“Yes,” Jim answered patiently. “Most of them are minors and most of them have been found. Don’t you know that if a case came up that matched your I would be on it?”

“I found eight. Eight!”

“Eight what? Missing women?” Jim shook his head. “There hasn’t been a match, Jessica. Whatever you think you’ve found…”

“So now you think I’m a liar, too?”

“No. But I think you’re not a detective. Did you do this to get my attention or something?”

“Fuck you.”

His understanding could only stretch so far. Jim sat back in his chair and let his eyes close for a moment. “Jessica, if you have something you think I’ve missed, I will look into it. But this is my second night without sleep and right now I’m too exhausted to think. And you are in trouble. Do you need an attorney?”

Jessica shrugged again. It seemed to be her default answer. “I can manage.”

“Can you afford one?”

“Maybe. Yes, if it’s just one appearance.”

“I’ll call someone for you. Try not to mouth off to the judge and when you’re sober, come see me about those eight cases. I will look into it.” He could at least set her mind at rest.

Jessica nodded. “Alright.”

Sighing, Jim dragged himself out of the chair. He nodded toward the one-way glass and headed for the door.

Granger met him in the corridor. “She’s the one from the woods?”

Jim nodded. “Like I said, she’s been through a lot. But a DUI is a DUI. She got probation for the last one on condition she got sober. She will get jail this time. I’ll speak for her, but I can’t work miracles.” He checked his watch. 4:12 am. “She’s all yours, officer.”

There was less than four hours to shift-change. If nothing new came in, he could spend those hours looking through the missing person files.

It was 9:15 when Jim finally stumbled through the door into the loft. He tossed his keys into the mail basket and headed to the refrigerator. Sure enough, he found a note in Blair’s handwriting:

_Gone to the lab. Back for lunch. Pancake mix ready if you come home hungry. Love you. B_

Jim smiled. He opened the fridge and saw a covered bowl of pancake batter, a jug of maple syrup beside it. He contemplated breakfast for a moment before deciding he was too tired. He closed the refrigerator and climbed the stairs to his bed.


	2. Spirit Guide

Dry leaves rustled under his boots and cold air seared his lungs with every breath. Jim stopped moving to listen.

Immediately the pressure he felt lessened and the sounds of nature filled his ears. Small mammals scampering through the loam. Insect wings buzzing. The cry of an eagle far, far overhead. A truck on the distant road, the engine stuttering as if it needed a service. Then a deafening snap as Sandburg stepped on a twig.

Jim half-raised his hands and managed to suppress the gesture before he clapped his hands over his ears. Sandburg noticed it anyway.

“Sorry, man,” he mumbled.

Jim waved it off. “We’re eight miles from the nearest road. There’s no sign anyone comes here. Nothing. I don’t get it.”

“Maybe it’s the wrong place,” Sandburg suggested.

Jim turned to face the way they had come. “Then how did she get to there?” He pointed. “This time of year there isn’t much regrowth this so it can’t be some other path that’s now hidden.”

“Unless someone hid it.”

“There would be some sign, Chief. _I_ would see it.”

Sandburg moved a step closer. “You will. Don’t force it.”

Jim closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath through his nose. Damp earth, leaves, the mix of animal faeces and rot that told him he was in nature. The scent of the man beside him, clean sweat and patchouli. Distracting.

Jim turned abruptly and headed back down the slope. Sandburg scrambled after him, making enough noise to alert anything that might be in the vicinity. Since there was no particular reason for stealth, Jim let it go. He had given up on teaching Sandburg bushcraft a long time ago. When he reached the place where he had seen the last trace of the victim’s presence, he stopped and waited for Sandburg to catch up.

“Wait here, Chief,” he began.

Predictably, Sandburg interrupted. “Jim, you need…”

“I need to follow this trail alone. It’s cold, Chief. If I open up as much as I need to, all I can hear, smell and taste is you. Wait here, or we have to give up.”

Sandburg ran a hand through his hair. “If you zone out there…”

“You’ll find me.”

Sandburg nodded. “Okay.”

Jim headed back up the slope. Partway up, he stopped, studying everything around him. He wasn’t sure what he had seen, or sensed, but instinct told him to bear left. He pushed vegetation aside and picked his way in a new direction.

The forest darkened as he walked, taking on new colours. The pines and cedars of the Cascades gave way to vine-covered trunks and moss. It was no surprise when he heard the warning growl of a panther.

Jim looked up to see the great cat rise from a thick branch above him. Its eyes glowed yellow and it arched its back in a house-cat-like stretch before it silently jumped down to the jungle floor. Jim saw stone beneath the moss. His eyes traced the shapes and he mentally stripped away the overgrowth to reveal the fallen pillars of a temple. The panther prowled around the pillar, growling softly. Jim moved closer.

The panther snarled.

Jim stopped in his tracks, heeding the warning. He looked down and saw a chasm at his feet. Another step, and he would have fallen.

Jim knelt, his eyes searching the darkness, but it was absolutely black, even to his Sentinel eyes. He looked up at the panther, which gave a human-like nod before it sped off into the jungle.

Jim woke.

He lay in his bed, stared at the ceiling and tried to replay the dream in his mind before the memory could fade. He had been looking for something. For Jessica Blake’s trail in the woods. The Panther led him to…

Underground.

He heard the scratch of a key in the lock. Blair was home.

Five years ago, they never searched underground.

Well, why would they? Except it made sense. It explained a lot. It could be.

Underground.

Jim pushed the covers aside. “Chief! Don’t get comfortable. We’re going for a drive.”

Sandburg argued, of course. He had a point: Jim had had three hours sleep after a forty-eight hour shift. He wasn’t in a fit state to work, but this wasn’t work, exactly, and Jim knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep now. Later, perhaps.

He did let Sandburg drive, though.

En route, he explained about Jessica and the DUI.

“Oh, man. She’s so screwed up. I mean, I get it. But where does she get the right to lay it on you?”

Jim shook his head. “Every cop has a case. That one you can’t let go. She’s mine, Chief. She has the right to come to me because I’m the reason she can’t sleep at night.”

“ _You’re_ the reason? You? Nothing to do with the psycho who hurt her? It’s all on you?”

“He, or they, hurt her, Chief. But the cop who couldn’t catch them is the reason they’re still out there. Every time she reads about a missing person in the newspaper, she’s retraumatised. She thinks there are eight other women out there like her.”

Blair slammed on the brakes and turned the truck onto the side of the road. He tuned to Jim. “She thinks _what_?”

Jim sighed. “I don’t know, Chief. She was drunk. She said there have been eight cases since hers that she thinks are the same.”

“Is there any chance she’s right?”

“I didn’t get details from her last night, but I don’t think so. Chief, I check every missing person case that stays open more than two weeks. I haven’t seen a match. I…I don’t think I have.”

“But the psycho is still out there. These things are never a one-off.”

“Unless he was jailed for something else. Or died.”

“And if that happened, we’ll never know.” Sandburg’s voice softened. “You’ll never know.” He started the engine again. “So we’re heading back into the woods…why?”

“Because I dreamed about my Panther.” Jim hated saying it out loud. Even to Blair, who understood, he though it sounded nuts.

“Oh,” Blair said. “Okay, then.”


	3. Presumed Dead

Blair stared at the laptop screen for a long moment before he tapped in Jim’s password. He knew he wasn’t allowed to do this. Technically it was hacking. But he also knew Jim needed help, and he was better at research than Jim.

He loaded up the police database and it served him a list of the files Jim had most recently accessed. They were all missing persons. Blair frowned. Jim hadn’t mentioned he had already started work on this. But Jim was exhausted. He was sleeping now, and Blair had unplugged the phone and turned off their cellphones. He wasn’t supposed to do that, either.

He settled on the couch with the laptop on his knees and began reading.

People went missing in Cascade. It happened everywhere. Most involved no foul play, just folks who felt no urge to let anyone know where they were going. Most kids who went missing were either found quickly or turned up dead. Most adults who went missing either came home a week or so later, or eventually turned up in another state. But there were exceptions.

Blair read through the files Jim had read, but then started his own search from scratch.

Time parameters: six years ago to the present.

Reports of missing women, regardless of outcome.

Filtered by age: eighteen to thirty.

Eliminate those where the subject was found, unharmed.

There were still too many. Blair thought for a moment, running what he remembered of the Blake case through his mind. Then he added a new parameter to his search: _missing, presumed dead_

Twelve names left. Blair called up the files in chronological order and started to read.

Blair’s cell phone buzzed and he glanced at the display. It was a text message:

 **Suz:** Is he sleeping? Heard he pulled five shifts in a row.

Blair smiled to himself. Suz was Jim’s partner: relatively new as a detective but they had known each other a long time. He typed a quick reply.

 **Blair:** Like a baby. Are you back on active?

 **Suz:** Doc says I’m good to go.

 **Blair:** Need to talk to you tomorrow then. I’ll email you some stuff 2nite.

 **Suz:** OK

Blair sent the email quickly, along with a suggestion that they meet for lunch. Then he turned off the laptop. Blair climbed the stairs, stripped off his clothes and crawled into bed beside Jim.

Jim stirred in his sleep and reached out for Blair. Blair snuggled against him.

“Z’mornin’ yet?” Jim mumbled.

“No. Go back to sleep.”

Jim’s only reply was a gentle snore.

The scents of brewing coffee and fresh-cooked pancakes filled the loft. Blair set out plates and syrup while Jim, who had a better sense of the right moment to flip them, cooked and filled the plates.

As he poured syrup over his pancakes, Jim nodded toward the couch where his laptop still lay open. “Breaking the law again, Chief?” He sounded more amused than accusing: Jim knew Blair had all his passwords.

Blair shovelled sweet, fluffy pancake into his mouth. “I wanted to help.”

“Find anything?”

Blair hesitated. “Maybe. I have an idea what Jessica Blake was talking about at least. Whether she’s on to something…” He shrugged. “I don’t know, man. It’s a stretch.”

“Tell me.” Jim set his fork down, focusing all of his attention on Blair.

“Two days ago was the anniversary of her abduction,” Blair said.

It hit Jim like a truck. His eyes widened for an instant, then he covered his face with one hand. “Oh, hell. She said she had a bad day, but I didn’t think… The date I remember is the day we found her, not…damn.”

Blair reached across the table and patted Jim’s hand. “Not your fault, man. You were sleep-deprived and she could have told you. But here’s the thing. Three months before Jessica’s abduction, there was another student reported missing. Her car was found abandoned on the cliffs north of Cascade, and she had a history of depression so it’s recorded as a suicide.”

Jim nodded. “Someone jumps from those cliffs there’s a good chance the body won’t be found. If there was enough evidence of suicide we wouldn’t pursue it. She was never found?”

“No.”

“And you think it wasn’t suicide?” Jim looked upset. “Blair, do you think I missed something here?”

Blair shook his head. “No way! Jim, that’s not what I’m saying. Hear hoof beats, think horses, not zebras, right? Chances are it was what it looks like. But Jessica was looking for zebras. She might remember the case: she was at Rainier, too.”

“And she sees a pattern. Okay. What else?”

“Well, after I found that one I looked for other deaths with no body found. Jim, I was looking for things Jessica might have seen as red flags, and I found some. Zebras, man, but there’s enough to give you an excuse to open an investigation. If you want to check those woods more carefully.”

Jim took a deep breath. “I think you’d better tell me about these zebras.”


	4. Partner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this chapter is “Smart Alec”. Suzanne is a character from that episode.

Detective Suzanne Tamaki took a deep breath as the elevator doors opened. She stepped out and headed for the Major Crimes bullpen. Her ankle felt stiff, but there was no pain. She no longer needed a crutch. She was fit for duty.

Four months earlier, she had shattered her right ankle when she fell pursuing a suspect. Three surgeries and a lot of painful PT later, she was back. Ellison had been without a partner for long enough.

A cheer went up when she opened the door and Suzanne grinned, accepting the welcome from her colleagues. But her eyes went to Ellison’s empty desk.

“He’s in court,” Rafe told her. “Take it easy and catch up on your open cases until he gets in. Things will get crazy around here soon enough. Doc sign you off?”

“No marathons yet, but I’m good for active duty,” Suzanne confirmed.

“Good. We need you.” Rafe headed for his own desk.

Suzanne wasted no more time. She pulled out her laptop and started work.

She had been a campus cop at Rainier University. After working a murder case with Ellison and Sandburg, back when he was Ellison’s ridealong-cum-unofficial-partner, Ellison had praised her work and suggested she should consider becoming a real cop. She stuck with the campus job for a few years, but the time came when she needed a new challenge. Cascade PD was a challenge. She worked hard, made Detective and after a couple of years in vice, she fought for an open spot in Major Crimes and won. No one was more surprised than she was when Ellison picked her as a partner. It was hell at first, too, but they had become a good team.

So why was he in court? She would have known if they had a case on the docket. And the whole damn precinct would be talking about it if he had been arrested. So it had to be personal.

Suzanne pulled out her laptop and logged in to see what their caseload looked like. She saw that Jim had closed the most recent case. It meant they were on call for the next one. Jim should be here.

Blair was leaning over a microscope when Suzanne tapped on the glass above his work station. He looked up, adjusted his glasses and gestured toward the lab door. She headed for the door and slipped inside, staying quiet and watching until he was done.

“Hi Suz. How’s the ankle holding up?”

She leaned back against the door. “You are the thirty-eighth person to ask me that this morning. It’s fine. I’m a cyborg.” It was true, sort of. The metal pins holding her ankle bones together were still there. The surgeon told her the bones would heal around them. She was going to be stopped every time she went through a metal detector for the rest of her life.

“All the concern getting you down?” he asked knowingly.

“I’m just ready to get back into it. So why is my partner AWOL?”

“Jessica Blake.”

Suzanne nodded. “It’s five years this week. Wait, is this connected to the files you sent me?”

Blair nodded. “She got Jim all stirred up again, but there might be a new lead.”

“Blair, we were told to drop it. There are a lot of current cases we need to be working.”

“Yeah, I know. But you don’t have to live with him.”

She laughed. “Yes, I do!” It was true enough. Like most detectives, Ellison put in more hours than he should. She saw more of him than his lover some weeks.

“Okay, you got me,” Blair admitted. “You know Jim. He can’t let this case go, and he…well, he has his own way of tracking down leads.”

Suzanne snorted. “Yeah, But it was _you_ who dug out old case files. Are you really trying to link them?”

Blair shook his head. “No. I explained this to Jim last night. It’s more of an excuse to reopen…”

“No way.” Suzanne held up both hands in a firm stop gesture. “Chief Banks won’t go for it, not even for Jim.”

“Simon will if Jim pushes for it. He knows what Jim can do. Your problem is Captain Buchanan.”

Suzanne made a face. “Tell me about it. I’ve already been ordered to explain where my partner is.”

“He didn’t call in?”

“I know he went to court for the Blake woman. But that should have been over by now. We’re on call, Blair. He’s got to come in.”

Blair picked up his cell phone and called Jim. While he waited for the connection he said to Suzanne, “You called him, right.”

“Voicemail,” she confirmed, and she knew Jim well enough to know that was deliberate. He was a good cop; he would have checked the message at once unless he were somehow unable to.

“Jim wouldn’t have…” Blair began, then said into the phone, “Jim, are you still in court? Call me.” He ended the call and looked up at Suzanne again. “It rang three times so his phone is on, he’s just not answering. He might be stuck there.”

Blair didn’t seem worried, but Suzanne pressed, “What did you start to say?”

“Huh?”

“Jim wouldn’t have…what?”

“Oh. After Jessica got arrested Jim wanted to go back into the woods where we found her. I was saying he wouldn’t have gone back without me. Suz, I’ve got to get back to work. If Jim won’t answer his phone try texting instead. He hates it enough that he’ll probably call in to make you stop.”

Suzanne grinned. “I’ll try that. Thanks, Sandburg.”

She left him to it. As she headed back toward the elevator she tapped out a text message to her AWOL partner.


	5. Apples

“Apples? Really?” Jessica stared at the display, then at Jim.

“They’re good for more than cheap cider,” Jim told her.

They were at the farmers’ market and Jim didn’t give a damn about the apples. But he would keep her talking about trivia until she was ready for the next step.

He took an apple from the display. This one was green, the skin smooth and waxy in his palm. He raised it toward his nose and breathed in the scent. “Crisp, sharp. Not much sweetness. Good with cheese.” He took a different variety from the display and offered the green one to her.

Her expression dubious, she took the apple and mimicked his action. “I can’t smell anything.”

Jim offered her his apple and they traded. “This one’s sweeter, a good one for pie.”

“I hate apple pie.”

“You would have hated jail more.”

Jessica was very lucky. Jim stood up for her in court, but he hadn’t expected it to make any difference.

He’d barely got started when Judge Kalin interrupted him. “Approach the bench, Detective. You too, counsel.”

It was unorthodox but Jim obeyed, standing between the two lawyers.

“What’s going on, here?” Kalin asked bluntly. “Detective, this is an open and shut. It says right here on her docket that she’s on her last chance.”

Jim nodded. “I’m aware, your honor. I just want to be sure you understand the circumstances here.”

“She wrapped her car around a streetlight. Her blood alcohol level was so high she can’t claim honest mistake. What is it you think I’m missing?”

“Judge, Ms Blake was abducted by two men who held her for weeks before she escaped.We never made an arrest. She has PTSD and she was drinking the other night because it was the anniversary of her abduction. I am not asking you to let her off Scot-free, but…”

Judge Kalin’s stern look stopped him. She turned to the prosecutor. “Do you care?”

The prosecutor didn’t miss a beat. “I wouldn’t oppose suspended time, Judge.”

“Done,” she agreed. “ Sit down.”

Everyone returned to their seats and Judge Kalin turned to Jessica. “Stand up.”

Nervously, Jessica stood.

“Do you want to say anything?” Kalin asked her.

Jim clearly heard her attorney hiss, “Shut up.”

Jessica looked down. “No, Judge.”

“Very well. Based on your previous record I am required to give you some time in jail. However, I really don’t think that’s the answer here. So, I am sentencing you to ten months, suspended for the same period. Do you understand what that means?”

Jessica nodded, but what she said was, “Um…”

“It means you’re free to go, today. But if you appear in court again, for being drunk or something else, you will go to jail. If you violate your parole, you will go to jail. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jessica nodded.

“In addition I am suspending your driving license for two years and your parole is conditional on you remaining in AA or an equivalent program. If AA isn’t working for you, there are other programs but you must show you are getting help. Is that understood?”

Jessica looked up at the judge. “I understand. Thank you. I’ll do better.”

Jim waited while Jessica reported to probation and they left the courthouse together. He wanted to ask her some questions about her abduction but he knew he couldn’t hurry her into it. Instead, he offered to keep her company until she could go to an AA meeting. That was how they came to be in the market testing the merchandise on a fruit stall.

Jim selected eight sweet desert apples and paid for them.

“Really, Jim. I can’t cook,” Jessica protested as he handed her the bag.

“Then it’s the perfect project.” The phone in his pocket chimed a text alert. Jim ignored it. “Look, you need something to take your mind off things. Give it a try.”

She smiled. It was a weak smile, and brief but it was there.

Jim checked his watch. “That meeting is at noon. We’ll be on time if we leave now. It’s just around the corner.”

“Alright.” She fell in beside him as they walked.

“Jessica, when you’re feeling a bit stronger, I’d like to ask you some questions.”

Her pace slowed. “Why? You already know everything.”

“Sometimes going over it again can trigger a new memory,” Jim suggested. “Or just a different perspective. I still want to get those guys, Jessica.”

She nodded, once, but she said nothing more to him. Not even goodbye.


	6. First Kiss

Detective Tamaki raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. There was a low stone wall separating the parking lot from the beach but it wasn’t enough to stop the sand blowing over the asphalt, forming small drifts in the corners. She looked up, studying the streetlights, trying to picture what the space would look like at night. It was wide open and at this time of year the beach would be mostly deserted. If the lights worked, the parking lot would be well lit. There wasn’t anywhere to hide.

She looked back to the car where the missing girl’s friends waited. The girls were all freshman students, not one of them even old enough to drink. The car was about eight years old, in good condition but nothing special. Nothing that would stand out. She sighed. She had a bad feeling about this one.

Suzanne walked back to her witnesses. She drew a breath to ask a question and stopped when the truck turned into the lot. She felt a wave of relief.

“Give me a moment. That’s my partner,” she said to the teenagers.

Jim drew up beside the car and jumped out of the truck.

“Nice of you to join, Ellison,” Suzanne said.

“What have we got?”

“Abandoned car. Missing girl. Can you take a look at the beach, see if there’s any sign? Your eyes are better than mine.”

Jim nodded. “Sure. Wait for me before you check the car, Okay?”

“I will.” She turned back to the gathered teenagers. “Okay. Let’s go though this one more time.”

Tamara sighed heavily. “Nia had classes on Wednesday morning. In the afternoon she usually studies in the library. I don’t know I’d she was there. She didn’t come back to our house.”

“And you were expecting her by six?” Suzanne prompted.

“Well, it’s not like she told me when she’d be back. But she always is.”

“If Nia had other plans, would she have told you?”

Tamara shrugged. “Usually. But we weren’t…I mean, I’m not her mom, you know?”

“Is there some reason she would come here?”

Tamara hesitated.

Another girl stepped forward. She had pink streaks woven into her cornrows. “This is where we used to come.”

“You are…?”

“My name is Bonnie. I’m…I was Nia’s girlfriend.” She looked out toward the water. “We’d bring a blanket and sit by the wall. We had our first kiss on the beach.”

“When did you break up?”

“Last week. But I never thought she would…”

Tamara interrupted, “She wouldn’t!”

Suzanne wasn’t sure of that, but she spoke gently. “We don’t know what happened. But if Nia did hurt herself, it’s not your fault. Couples break up all the time.”

Bonnie nodded. “But Nia’s family is, uh, really traditional. She never had a girlfriend before.”

Suzanne was about to ask another question when Jim appeared at her side.

“Yeah, I know what that’s like,” Jim said casually. “My dad acted like it was the end of the world when I came out.”

“It’s different,” Bonnie said.

“For girls? Or is it her faith?”

“Both, I guess.”

Jim turned to Suzanne. “We should take formal statements.”

He had found something, Suzanne realised. She nodded to let him know she understood and turned back to the girls. “I’ve got your details. Could you come down to the PD?”

“Now?” Tamara objected.

“Well, if not now, first thing in the morning. Ask for Detective Tamaki or Ellison.”

“I can come now,” Bonnie volunteered. “If you can give me a ride.”

“Of course.” Suzanne waited, but it seemed the others were with Tamara. She gestured to her car. “Bonnie, I’ll be there in a moment.” To the others, she added, “Tomorrow first thing, okay? If we’re going to find Nia we really need your help.”

“Tamaki,” Jim said quietly and she allowed him to lead her a few steps away so they could speak privately. “There’s no sign of a body, but I’m going to call the coastguard and have them sweep further south.”

Looking for a body. Suzanne nodded. “Do you think they’ll find her?”

“No. I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”


	7. Blind man’s bluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes with a trigger warning. It does not contain graphic description of violence but it does deal with the aftermath, and if I’ve done it right, it’s intense. Caveat lector.

It was the cold that woke her, painful, biting cold, her naked feet exposed to the air. She curled up, reaching down to her toes. Her fingers were not much warmer, but she gripped her toes, working the digits back and forth to ease the cramp. She tugged the blanket down to cover her feet, but that exposed her shoulders and chest.

She sat up, hugged herself and rubbed her arms for warmth. The bruises hurt.

The room was completely dark. Quiet, too. She could hear her breath, too fast, too shallow. But no one else. She was alone.

Eventually her shivering subsided. She lay back, rolled onto her side and tentatively reached to the edge of the mattress. Her fingers found the steel frame of the bed, followed the icy metal to the chain dangling from it. They left without chaining her. Why?

Her heart pounded and her breath came faster. Her questing fingers found the floor: rough, wet and cold. She wriggled closer to the edge of the bed so she could place her hands flat on the floor. The movement put pressure on her hip and a moan of pain escaped her. For a moment she froze, remembering why that hurt so bad.

Using her hands for leverage, she dragged herself off the bed. The blanket slipped to the ground, leaving her naked. She pulled her right leg down and her knee hit the floor. Then the left and she was kneeling in the dark. She felt around blindly for the blanket and pulled it over her knees. It didn’t feel warmer, but it was comforting.

She didn’t know how long she had been here. She long ago lost count of the times they came and hurt her. But this was the first time they left her unchained. She had to do something. She had to try.

She couldn’t move. Her mind was racing, pieces of knowledge and advice she had heard flipping through her mind like playing cards thrown into a fan. Slowly, shaking, she got to her feet, the blanket clutched in one hand. She raised her other hand to the level of her eyes, palm toward her. Someone told her once that this was the safest way to move in darkness. You didn’t stretch you hands out in front of you, like children playing blind man’s bluff, because if you touched something dangerous you would hurt your hands. Arm up, so your forearm would be the first thing to touch. Palm in because if you touched a live wire, you would automatically close your fist. Not that there would be a live wire here, but it was the best advice she could remember.

 _Your hand at the level of your eyes_ , voices in her mind sang hysterically: a musical reference she must have heard somewhere but couldn’t remember.

She took a step forward. Her body swayed. She was so weak! She tried another step, then another. The ground under her feet was rough and it hurt her bare feet, but she kept going, each step careful and deliberate. She heard her breath, panting, as if she were running. The blanket brushed her leg and she cried out in sudden terror before she realised what it was.

After maybe fifty steps she felt her arm touch something solid. The blanket fell from her hand as she raised both arms to feel the wall ahead of her. Like the floor it was rough and uneven. Rock or stone, not bricks. She reached upward as high as she could, but though the wall seemed to curve inward she couldn’t feel the ceiling.

Okay. Okay, she was at the wall. Now to find a door.

She explored the wall with her hands and then began to move. The cold numbed her feet and fingers. She took one step at a time, questing ahead by touch before each step. She felt warmth on her face, felt her breath stutter. She was crying. She pressed both hands into her mouth, stifling the sound. What if they were near? What if they heard?

Finally, her numb fingers touched wood. She swept the frame twice before she understood; her sense of touch was almost gone. She cried out with relief when she realised. It was such a small thing, finding the door. She didn’t know if it would open or if it would, what was on the other side, but in the moment, it felt like a triumph. She took one more step, placed her back against the door and her knees buckled. She slid to the ground, splinters ripping her buttocks and back. She barely noticed the pain.

From the floor, she reached behind, searching frantically for a handle. The wood was rough. It might not even be a door. She was cutting her hands to pieces for nothing! Then she found an edge. She followed it upward, her breathing more rapid with every moment. She touched something smooth and cold and she gasped, her heart leaping into her mouth. Hope. She had forgotten what hope felt like.

She used the handle to pull herself upward. It didn’t turn or move but she gripped it with both hands, planted her feet and pulled with all the strength she had left. Nothing happened.

No! She couldn’t get this close and fail.

She pulled again and again, finding strength she thought was gone. The door was solid, unmoving. No. No no no no no no. She screamed in frustration and let go.

“Open! Damn you, open! Let me out!” She screamed and pounded on the door with her fists.

The door moved.

A high, hysterical laugh escaped her. The door opened outward, not in. She shoved at the wood and it buckled under her hands. She shoved harder.Something snapped loudly and the door flew open. She fell to the ground and pain shot through her. But she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t lie there waiting for the pain to fade. She pushed herself to her knees and then to her feet.

*

“Stop there,” Jim said gently. “I want you to think about what you felt in that moment. Not emotionally, physically.”

“Cold.”

“More than that,” Jim prompted. “What did you smell? How did the air taste?”

“What are you doing?” Blair asked from behind the glass. His voice was quiet enough that Jessica couldn’t have heard him.

Jessica shook her head. “I don’t…”

“You were alone for a long time. Traumatic isolation can heighten the senses. You do remember. What did you smell?”

She frowned. “Uh…paraffin. And dirt.”

“Dirt?”

“Like the ground after a lot of rain.”

“Okay. That’s good. Can you remember a taste?”

“Metal. Blood.” Tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Alright, that’s enough,”Jim said. “You did really well, Jessica. I know how hard that was.”

“Just promise it’s the last time.”

Jim reached across the table and was surprised when she allowed him to take her hand. “I promise. I won’t ever ask you to go through that again. And anyone else who might will have to go through me.”

She nodded, still crying. “C-can I have some water?”

“Of course.” Jim checked his watch. “Interview terminated at 11:17.” He turned off the camera.

 


End file.
